Harry Potter and the Grey Lord
by Redery
Summary: The Dursely's were far more abusive, physically and mentally, than Dumbledore had anticipated. How had that one small miscalculation overhauled all his carefully crafted plans so much? Now Harry ended up in the wrong house. He was surrounded with people he wasn't supposed to be. He was on a different path, a different quest than Dumbledore would have of him. He'd have to be stopped
1. A World of Magic,

Disclaimer: I'm a lazy guy, so I'm only putting this up here once and for all. This applies to this entire story, including every individual chapter. I don't own Harry Potter and don't profit from it at all. If I did, this would be canon and not on a fanfiction site.

Chapter 1: A World of Magic

Harry James Potter was a freak. Harry was a freak whose parents were drunkards that had died in a car accident, leaving him to burden the honorable, noble, and exemplary Dursley family. They raised him, they clothed him, they fed him, they paid for his school and they took care of him from the mercy of their tender hearts even though he was such a freak. And if they _tapped_ him around a bit, well it was only natural to try to knock the freakishness out of him. He was a freak so of course he had to be treated _slightly _different than their beloved, adorable, brave, smart and perfect son Dudley.

At least according to Vernon and Petunia Dursley. In reality Harry knew he was a _special_ boy that could do _special_ things. No one else could grow their hair out over night or turn their teacher's hair blue or teleport on top of roofs. No one else could talk to snakes like he could as he found out one day when a grass snake slithered by the weed he was pulling out of Petunia's garden. He tried not to do them because that only got him severely beaten with belt or rod or simply the meaty fist of Vernon and thrown in a cupboard for half a week with no food and the only water the drops from the crack in the ceiling that landed in his mouth every once in a while if he positioned himself just right under the leak.

He was smarter than his bloated cousin and faster too, even though he was never allowed to showcase either point or his cousin would whine to his parents and earn Harry another beating. Afterwards Vernon would hold him and let Dudley practice his boxing 'skills' on Harry's ribs. As if the freak could be smarter or faster than their precious baby!

He got beat if he chewed too loudly from the food that barely filled a fraction of the large plate it was presented on (food which he cooked himself and got beat if it was even slightly burned or a bit too salty). He got beat for clipping the flowers a millimeter too much or too little in Petunia's garden that was only in its pristine condition due to Harry's care. He got beat for talking or asking questions and he got beat for breathing too loudly. He got beat if he did poorly in school, and he got beat 'seriously' when he did better than Dudley (which wasn't too good to start with). He got beat if he walked too slow, or walked too fast. He got beat because Dudley was bored from playing with his room full of toys while Harry didn't have a single one, or whining from not being bought the newest one, or mad from failing another test, or on a sugar high from all the sweet candy that wasn't 'as sweet as my widdle Dudders.' He got beat when Vernon went to work, and when he came back and when he went to sleep and when he woke up. He got beat if he did his chores and he got beat 'seriously' if he didn't.

A regular beating was just a few belt whips, or a few rod strikes or a few punches and kicks. Beat seriously was Vernon's definition of beating him until he was black and blue and unconscious to be thrown into his small cupboard and only let out two or three days later. To put it simply Harry couldn't remember a day he had not got beaten for one reason or another. It was a miracle he was still alive since they never took him to the doctors, another reason why he knew he was special. He had seen children that fell on the playground at his school sporting the same bruised elbow a week later while he recovered from bone breaking injuries faster. Of course the Dursley's were careful to never beat him on the face (except on weekends when they knew it would heal up by the time he went to school) and only beat him where his shaggy clothes would cover the bruises up. His natural skin color on his stomach, back and legs was practically blue.

Still, Harry didn't mind the beatings that much. He would always endure them and had gotten used to them by now. What Harry couldn't stand was the psychological abuse. He _hated_ being called a freak. His jaw would close so firmly as to grind shells to dust if they were in between them at the time, his eyes would dilate in ice cold fury, his fists would close unconsciously and something, something _special_, something _powerful_, would flare inside him, begging to be unleashed. It was all he could do to keep it in control, not because he was afraid of the beatings since he could endure those, but because he was afraid of that 'something'.

On the 23rd of June, 1990, however, he just couldn't hold it back anymore. It was Dudley's 10th birthday and all his friends were there along with piles of presents. The Dursley's were leaving for a whole weekend starting the day after to treat their son. Harry of course was being left behind, locked in his cupboard since Mrs. Figg had told them she had to go to London during their trip. It was the biggest party Dudley had had to date, and he spent the entire prior week rubbing it in Harry's face, since _freaks _didn't get parties. The taunting only increased until the day of the party. Dudley and his friends spent the time waiting for the cake playing their favorite game; Harry Hunting. It was bad enough being called a _freak_ by the Dursley's, but all the other kids were doing it too. His blood had been boiling all week, and now it was about to blow completely. Later when the party was over and his friends had left, Dudley got bored and had Vernon tie him up where the piñata had been and began to see if _freaks _had any candy inside them.

"Hahaha! Freak, freak, freak! Let's see what the piñata freak is hiding inside!" chanted Dudley as his parents laughed and watched the show. "You're nothing but a FREAK!" shouted Dudley as he hit Harry hard on the head with his bat.

That was the last straw for Harry as his vision went red, and he no longer cared about the consequences of that something _special_ inside him.

"I'M NOT A FREAAAAAAAAK!" he roared at the top of his lungs as whatever it was that was holding that something back inside of him shattered and it blasted out of him in a glowing blood red shockwave, the bat shattering into splinters, rocking the house and sending precious Dudders flying into the wall and knocking him unconscious from the sheer power of it. Vernon and Petunia were sent tumbling as the sofa they sat on rolled back from shockwave.

It was over in less than a second, but it looked like a tornado had blasted through the Dursley's living room. Glass shards were littering the floor. The furniture was all toppled backwards forming a circle around the still dangling Harry. Dudley was crumpled up against the wall, Petunia was lying unconscious under the sofa and Vernon was groaning loudly as he held his head in his hands. Harry hung limply from the rope, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging low as he stared at the chaos _he _had caused.

"Wh-what the?" groaned Vernon as he got up unsteadily. He glanced around, his eyes shaking in fear until he saw the forms of his wife and son. "You did this! I'll show you who's a freak!" shouted Vernon as he charged at Harry and began beating him like never before. He punched him and kicked him and even bit him. Harry cried in pain as he tried to summon that something again, but it only simmered a little inside of him, not enough to be pushed out again.

"I'll kill you freak! We took you in and this is how you repay us? You and your filthy kind, I'll kill you all!" roared the walrus of a man as he broke another one of Harry's ribs. Harry slipped out of consciousness under the heavy onslaught as Vernon kept beating his limp body until he was sweating and heaving. "No. I won't kill you, freak. I'll beat you and beat you again for the rest of your life. Then I'll sell you to a freak circus where you belong," he whispered as he tore the rope apart and flung Harry's body into the cupboard and locked it. He then went and carried his wife and son to the car and drove them to the hospital.

* * *

><p>It was dark and empty. Harry was floating in a seemingly endless void.<p>

_'__Am I dead?'_ he wondered as he twisted his body around trying to find something, anything in that dark emptiness. No matter how much he turned around, he could see nothing but darkness. Just as he was about to give up, thinking he was truly dead, he felt something pulling at him from above. He looked up to see a slim dark green light as his body started to flow towards it. It grew larger and larger as he neared it, until he found himself standing in front of a closed door, the light escaping through the hinges from inside. Harry carefully placed his hand on the knob, and pushed the door open slowly. The room was exactly like the outside except there were brilliant streaks of green flying around it. As Harry stepped inside he could hear ever so faint voices speaking, calling his name.

_'__Harry! No, not Harry!_'

"Is someone there?" asked Harry hesitantly. As soon as Harry spoke, he became aware of another presence. He twisted around to look into the corner and his mouth opened in a silent scream as he laid his eyes on the most twisted and mangled creature he had seen.

'_Oh, you've come at last? Yes, come to me boy,_' spoke or rather hissed the voice.

Harry immediately turned around and bolted, screaming as he ran through the door, shutting it behind him and plunged into the void of darkness that was far better than that thing.

* * *

><p>Harry woke up sore and in more pain than he could remember feeling. He hurt all over and could barely move as he lifted his head to look around and see that he was inside his dark cupboard. He blinked a few times; confused as to what he just saw, but shrugged it off as a dream. He tried to remember what happened before that and then burst out laughing as he remembered what he had done even though his whole body protested and ached.<p>

"I knew it. I'm not a freak! I'm just special. They can't do that! Only I can." He grinned as he raised his arms and looked at his hands. He could feel _it_ inside of him. It was there, right under his skin, working on soothing his wounds and mending his bones. He could almost see it, barely making it out as it simmered to the top of his skin occasionally, now a slightly blue rather than the flaming red from before.

He threw his head back and laughed again despite the pain it caused, because no pain could hurt him now. He wouldn't be kicked around by them anymore or take being called a freak. He could fight back now. He had power! He could barely contain his excitement as he rolled around laughing, his joy at his new found powers letting him ignore his pain. That was at least until he rolled towards the door and saw something.

His eyes landed on the door knob and he frowned as the full realization came to him. He was still trapped in here and now they would surely kill him for what he did. He grunted as he worked his aching body up and grabbed at the door knob. It was locked. He would be stuck here until they either dragged him out to kill him or starve inside. He would've started crying if _it_ didn't simmer inside of him, stirring around like stew in a pot. He looked down at his beaten, blood covered body and broke into a grin again.

"That's right. I have power now, they can't keep me here. Go, destroy the door!" he yelled as he thrust his hand out, palm facing the door.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned as he looked at his hand and thrust it at the door again. "Come one, work! Why won't you come out?" he flailed as he tried to get _it_ to work. It was bubbling right there inside him, but he couldn't move it. "Darn it! Why won't you work! What's the point if I can't even use you!" he growled as he thrust his hand at the door again, but still nothing happened. "Do I have to be angry or something?" he wondered, thinking back to how he used it last night. He closed his eyes and pictured Dudley and Vernon and Petunia all calling him a freak. His fists curled up as he forced himself to think of their abuses.

'_Freak, freak, freak! You're just a little freak!_' they chanted, over and over in his head. Harry felt _it_, it was fuming inside him again. His injuries started hurting worse as _it _stopped trying to mend them and instead gathered up inside him, swirling into a ball of rage. Harry roared as he thrust his throbbing arm at the door and this time _it _flew out, all of it, smashing the door to pieces and flinging the shards away, taking Harry's rage away with it. He sunk to his knees, exhausted as he felt empty inside. The morning sunlight flew into the cupboard like an over energetic child, but Harry didn't have a chance to enjoy it. He groaned in pain as he sunk further onto his chest and face, laying there unable to move as the pain through his broken body was fully felt. As he slipped back into unconsciousness, he regretted using _it_ now since it had been keeping the pain at bay and fixing him.

* * *

><p>Harry groaned as he awoke again. He lay still for a few minutes, trying to overpower the pain, duller now, as he felt <em>it<em> shimmering back inside him. It wasn't shimmering as strongly as he felt before, but it seemed that his power would come back on its own. He grinned as he forced himself up. He was still inside the cupboard, but now it was very bright, most likely around noon time. From the silence and the fact that he was still alive, it seemed as if the Dursleys weren't home yet. Harry pushed himself to his feet and crawled out slowly to find something to eat and drink as his stomach growled at him. Looking up at the kitchen clock showed it was almost eleven. He drank a glass of water as he took out some leftovers and began devouring them with a glass of milk at the kitchen table. The leftovers were stale and hard, but tasted like five star cuisine to Harry. How he wished he could eat like that every day!

After his meal, he sat back to gather his thoughts and make plans as to what he should do next. Clearly he couldn't afford to stay here until the Dursleys got back. But where could he go? There was no one to take him in. He couldn't go to the police either. They would force an investigation and as soon as the Dursleys found out where he was they would have him killed. He saw the remote lying at the edge of the table and picked it up, turning the TV on. It showed the date was the 25th of June. That meant he had been in the cupboard unconscious for an entire day. He recalled that today was the day Mrs. Figg was supposed to go somewhere. He limped over to the window to confirm that her car was still in her lot. He needed to get away from Little Whinging and fast and there was no way he could do that on foot in his current condition. He also needed to get a disguise or Dudley's friends would recognize him if his current plan didn't work and he had to try something else. He limped up the stairs and into Dudley's room. After ransacking his wardrobe he found a pair of old sun glasses that fit over his half broken ones and an oversized cap. If he donned those, he should be able to walk around without being recognized immediately. He helped himself to Dudley's saved up allowance since it should've been his in the first place seeing as he did all the work around here. Afterwards he snuck into Vernon and Petunia's room and took all the cash he could find from their hidden stash. It was a few hundred pounds and could last him a month if he rationed it properly. He emptied Dudley's school bag and filled it with other necessities such as water bottles and spare clothes.

That done, he slipped out of the house, hopefully for the last time and limped over to Mrs. Figg's car. Luckily the door was unlocked. Harry sneaked into the back of the car where he found an old blanket covered with cat fur. He stashed his bag under the passenger's seat and threw the blanket over himself, praying it was enough to keep him hidden. It was fortunate that Mrs Figg didn't come for half an hour because it took him that long to stop sneezing with all the cat fur. He found himself falling asleep and only shot awake when he heard a door slam and saw Mrs. Figg walk out of her house. He squirmed lower into the seat and hid himself completely under the blanket, praying she wouldn't look in the back. He held his breath as she opened the front door and sat down, throwing her purse into the passenger's seat. He didn't let it out until she started the car and pulled away from the curb and began driving away, humming to herself. He fell asleep shortly after again, his body still aching dully. He snapped awake as he heard the front door slam close. He waited a minute before slowly lifting the blanket off and peeking around. The car was parked in a busy street, probably somewhere in London. As he looked around he saw Mrs. Figg walk toward a building that was –

Hmm, that was weird. Something was keeping him from focusing on the building. No matter how hard he squinted, his eyes would slide away from it. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them just in time to see Mrs. Figg walk into the run down building. Again he felt something try to push his eyes away from the building, but he resisted it as best as he could. He continued to fight with it for a minute or so until he began to see a shimmering, colorless haze around the building. At least that was the best way he could describe it. It was like looking out at a distance on a hot, sunny day and seeing the horizon shimmer around. But Harry knew this was no heat wave. It, whatever _it_ was, felt almost exactly like the _stuff_ inside him. Now that he focused on the haze and could see it, he felt his own stuff attracted towards it, as if begging him to go into the building. Harry secured his hat and sun glasses and stepped out of the car, keeping his eyes on the building. He fixed up the blanket to leave no trace of his being there and grabbed his bag. Hesitantly walking towards the building, he saw it _transform_ from a rundown old shop to a fancy bar named _The Leaky Cauldron_. His jaw dropped as he stared at it. It was like magic! As he walked to the door step, he felt the last bits of the 'haze' pushing him away disappear and he walked inside. Several people looked up at him curiously, but he immediately ducked his head and tried to seem inconspicuous. He saw Mrs. Figg leave out the back door, followed by another elderly man and slowly worked his way over to the back door. He jumped out of it and into an alley way, quickly ducking down into the cover of the shadows. He found to his dismay that he was in a closed alley. He saw Mrs. Figg standing behind the man at one end of it. The man appeared to raise a stick and wave it across the brick wall. Harry's eyes widened as he watched the bricks rearrange themselves and open up to reveal a whole new world behind them. The two walked into the world unhesitant and the wall began to close behind them. Unconsciously, Harry raced behind them and dived in just before the wall closed. Harry had always known he was special and now that he had found a special world, there was no way he was going back. He stared all around him, slack jawed and eyes wide in awe. This was surely a world of magic.

* * *

><p><span>AN<span>: I've had this idea for a while now. Hope you enjoyed. Please read and review! Constructive criticism is welcome. Please keep in mind that I was raised in the USA and don't know British English, so they might sound a bit different. I'll try my best though.


	2. A Life of Lies

Chapter Two: Life of Lies

Harry could hardly believe his eyes. Past the crumbling brick wall was a sign that welcomed him into Diagon Alley, an alley that made him feel a lot less special. Everything around him was beyond fascinating as he walked around with his jaw open and eyes wide beyond his glasses. He stared in amazement as a chest walked itself behind its owner, full to the brim, but still able to fit anything else dumped into it. He gaped at a man flying overhead on a broom! He stared at the strange shop names and the stranger items displayed in their windows. He must've looked like a fool if anyone had been paying attention to a dirty, oversized rag covered child. He spun around and around as he tried to take in all the sights and the people (what was that light coming out of the stick that man was waving around?), the sounds (did someone say dragon hearts? They have dragons?), the oddly named signs (Magical Menagerie? What did that even mean?) and clearly magical items (a cauldron stirring itself? How was that even possible?), and just about everything else. He kept turning around looking at anything that caught his attention (which was just about everything) until he got so dizzy he ended up bumping into someone and falling down.

"Gah! Watch where you're walking, you filthy squib!" cried the middle aged woman, well dressed in black robes and a wide brimmed hat. She sneered at Harry and stormed off, leaving him confused.

"Squib? What's that?" he asked himself as he got up and dusted his clothes off. What ever it was, he didn't like the sound of it. Her tone reminded him too much of when his relatives called him freak. He got himself under control and decided to look for a library of some sort. Harry had always been a smart child, even if he was prohibited from displaying it. At school he would hide away in the library during lunch and recess to avoid being bullied by Dudley and his gang and manage to lose himself in the world of books. It was the only thing that could distract him from the hardships of life since he was never allowed to watch TV with the Dursleys. He learned much from them, much more than from any adult. He knew that books could teach you about the world and places in it that you'd never know existed or be able to visit. Though he hadn't read about this magical place, he knew there must be books about it. There had to be a library even in a magical land.

The only problem was that he didn't know how to ask anyone. He was always punished for asking questions before so he usually kept to himself and tried to figure things out on his own. Especially after the brusque way the lady had treated him. So instead he continued walking, marveling at the different things until he spotted a book store called _Flourish and Blotts_. Harry went inside and saw many people looking for and buying books. He cruised down the aisles, almost jumping with joy at the strange books inside and the stranger knowledge they must contain within their leathery bounds. Harry sighed as he forced himself to stop from picking up every book he crossed and started looking for anything that could tell him where things were located on Diagon Alley or more about the magical world in general.

"May I be of assistance, young man?" asked the elderly store manager, eyeing Harry with curiosity as he neared the counter in his search for the right book.

"Uh, yes sir. I was looking for a book or map that might tell me about the layout of Diagon Alley," replied Harry timidly.

"Ah I thought you were a new face here. I do have a few old books on the blueprints, but I'm afraid most of them are outdated. The Alley isn't too big so we don't have any maps either. What are you looking for? Perhaps I can direct you there," said the manager in a kindly voice.

"Oh, um well, I was looking for a library," responded Harry.

"A library? Why would you need one of those? I assure you, my boy, I have all the books you could want for," chuckled the manager.

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably as he looked around at the expensive looking books. "Ah, well, you see, um I don't have much money, so I don't think I can afford very many books."

"Nonsense! What kind of wizard do you think I am, letting something like money get in between a boy and his books, eh? You're free to read as many as you want. We have a few chairs and couches in the corner for people to sit down and enjoy a good book. Just make sure to put them back where you picked them up from," ordered the manager in mock strict tone.

Harry tried to cover his shock. He could read _all_ these books for _free_? He almost jumped at the opportunity before realizing something.

"Thank you very much, sir! But, um you said you're a wizard?"

The manager raised an eyebrow under his large hat. "Well of course, my boy. Everyone here is either a wizard or a witch. Are you muggle born by chance?"

"Muggle born?" asked Harry, confused.

"Well that answers the question, I suppose. Did you get your Hogwarts letter yet? They ought to do a better job of explaining these things."

"Ah, no sir," said Harry, wondering what in the world a hog's warts had to do with any kind of letter.

"My, oh my, then how'd you ever get in here? I can tell you're no muggle, even though you dressed like one. Never mind. Probably best I don't know. Muggles, my boy, are those who can't perform magic. In fact most of them don't even know about it, unless their child turns out to be magical. That's muggle born; a magical child born to non-magical parents," explained the manager.

"Oh. I suppose I am. I wouldn't know though. My parents died in an accident when I was a baby."

"Terribly sorry to hear that my boy," said the manager sympathetically. "Well why don't you help yourself to some books, and let me know if you have any questions. Since you don't seem to know much about the magical world, may I suggest starting on _Powers You Never Knew You Had and What to do With Them Now You've Wised Up_. After that, maybe look into the _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_. _Hogwarts; A History_, also by Bagshot is a good one if you're planning to go to Hogwarts. You can find the first one on aisle nine and the rest on aisle twelve in the history section."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir!" exclaimed Harry as he finally gave in to his curiosity and went to search for the books.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Harry found his ignored stomach growling as he finished skimming and power reading through <em>Powers You Never Knew You Had<em>. He couldn't believe it. He was a wizard! Magic was real! It explained the reason why he always felt different, all of his 'freakiness', and the last couple of days. Harry James Potter was a wizard with magical powers! And the book taught him that all the things he'd done in the past were just accidental magic, and he hadn't even scratched the tip of the iceberg of magic. He couldn't wait to get into real magic.

He frowned though as he pondered over some of what the book had said. It told him that magical children could perform accidental magic without knowing how or what they did, and they needed to go to a magical school (he found out the Hogwarts the manager had mentioned was one such school) to train under wizards and witches using wands to learn to use their powers. That didn't sound right to Harry because he had felt his magic stirring inside him for a couple of years now, even though he never knew what exactly it had been. He had used it before ever finding out about magic. Sure he had done most of it accidentally like the book said, but he had been able to replicate it when he blasted the door of his cupboard. Even though it was incredibly difficult, he had been able to recall how it felt and used that feeling to guide the power inside him to come out and blast the door.

The book briefly mentioned that only the greatest of wizards could do such things without using spell words or a wand. Everyone else needed a wand to channel the magic though and utter special words that told the channeled magic what to do. It said nothing of being able to _'feel'_ magic inside you. But even now Harry could feel his magic shimmering around his body; still working on fixing him up fully (he winced as he recalled his injuries, the pain returning as he did so.)

He looked out the window, seeing it was nearing evening time. He'd have to find a place to sleep and hopefully get some food. He needed to head to the bank first though. The book had also briefly touched upon wizarding money, advising muggle borns to convert their currency to galleons, sickles, and knuts. To do so he'd have to go to Gringotts, the only bank in Magical Britain. He took out the money he had taken form the Dursleys and counted out almost a thousand grand. He chuckled to himself, wishing he could see the look on Vernon's face as he realized Harry had escaped with his 'hard earned' money. Harry scowled in anger as thinking of Vernon reminded him of something he said the night Harry unleashed his powers.

_"__You and your filthy kind, I'll kill you all!"_

That was what he had bellowed in his rage. He had known all along Harry was a wizard and that there were others like him, but he had hid it from Harry. He would pay.

Before Harry could start planning his revenge, his stomach growled again. Harry was no stranger to hunger and had in fact eaten better today than he usually did. But since he was free from the Drusley's tyranny now, he decided he'd rather keep his stomach content. And so he closed the book and moved to put it back where he got it from. He planned to head to the bank and exchange his money and then get something to eat and find a place to stay for a few nights. He hoped wizards didn't have laws about renting rooms to underage kids. The manager smiled and waved to him as he put the book back and headed towards the door. However as he was about to walk out, something caught his eye. It was facing the inside of the store so he hadn't seen it when he walked in originally, but there on the shelves near the door, there was a book with his picture drawn on it. It was a crude image, of a boy with green eyes and glasses and dark hair neatly trimmed, fighting a dragon. It could've been a picture of any boy, except for the fact that a large lightning bolt was marked on the boy's forehead (albeit on the opposite side as Harry's own) and the title read _Harry Potter and the Dragon's Tooth_. Harry stopped in his tracks as his jaw dropped. He changed course and headed for the book, even his stomach quieting at the thought of the disturbing book. As he neared it, he saw the shelf was full of other books supposedly about him. All of them featured Harry Potter and this or that. Some had brilliant swords while others had horrific creatures, some with the boy leading armies against skull wearing evil doers, while others had the boy wonder standing above a fallen dark wizard. Harry picked up the first book he had seen and quickly skimmed through it, completely gob smacked as it told him tales of when he had fought a dragon for its obsidian tooth that had the power to cure any disease. Harry certainly didn't remember doing that. He had to look at the cover three times before confirming that it was indeed a crudely drawn picture of him and not some other Harry Potter, unless of course the other Harry Potter had his scar and his eyes.

Harry shook his head in bewilderment as he put the book back and went up to the manager. He waited till the man served his customer and the two were alone.

"Um excuse me sir, but I was wondering who's Harry Potter?"

"Bloody Merlin! You don't know who Harry Potter is? Everyone knows who Harry Potter is!" exclaimed the manager. He told Harry of a boy bearing his name that had led to the downfall of the most feared Dark Lord in recent history, earning him the same scar that now adorned Harry's forehead. He told Harry to read the _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ if he wanted to learn more. Harry thanked him as he self-consciously lowered the hat covering his hair and forehead. He hurried off to get the book and plopped back down in the corner to read it. He looked for the section on him and ignored the rest of the book as he read each chilling word with complete raptness. It started from the rise of a dark wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort (to Harry's annoyance, the book only named him once and thereafter stubbornly refused to call him anything but You-Know-Who) and how some prominent members of society flocked to his side. It gave a brief overview of the issue of blood purity and Harry learned what squibs were. It discussed how Lord Voldemort (Harry found it annoying to keep reading You-Know-Who and automatically switched to his name to save some time and hurry up with his reading) brought terror and death to where ever he and his mask adorned followers, who called themselves death eaters, went. It described how many a great wizard or witch fell to his brutal dark magic and how few had the courage to resist. Among those few was a young couple, recently out of school. James Potter, a pure blood hailing from a prominent family and his wife Lily Evans, a muggle born witch, the brightest of her time. The two stood against Voldemort and his followers along with the great Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort feared, and a few others in his Order of the Phoenix. It went on to discuss how the Potter's were heart brokenly betrayed by their best friend, Sirius Black, who had in fact been the right hand of the Dark Lord himself. He gave Voldemort their location and the Dark Lord, in his quest to rid not only 'mud bloods', a filthy, derogative term for muggle borns, but also those he called ' blood traitors', or simply anyone that stood up against him, went to their house to finish them off with his own evil hand. Unbeknown to him, he was to meet his match there at the hands of none other than a baby Harry James Potter. No one knew how, or why, or what caused the great Dark Lord to succumb to a mere infant, but none complained. It was tragic how young Harry's parents had lost their lives before Harry could destroy the fiend, but alas sacrifices must be paid in times of war. The book then ended the chapter by saying no one knew where Harry was or what became of him except that he was under the great Albus Dumbledore's protection.

* * *

><p>Harry put down the book slowly while his mind raced at a thousand miles a second. Was his whole life just one big lie? Who were his true parents? What kind of people were they? Who was Sirius Black and why had he betrayed his parents? Why had his parents been fool enough to trust him in the first place? Who was Voldemort and why did he kill them and try to kill Harry? How had Harry stopped him when he couldn't even remember any of this happening? Who was this Dumbledore that was supposedly taking care of Harry, but whose name he had never heard of until this very moment? These were just some of the pressing questions racing through his mind as he tried to realign his world view that had been so easily toppled in a single day. He would've continued to stare off into space, a hand covering his bedazzled face, except that the manager walked up to him and snapped him out of it.<p>

"Yes, my boy, it was a terribly tragic story, eh? But don't weep, for what would have been the outcome if it hadn't occurred would've been hundreds of times more tragic," muttered the manager, mistaking Harry's shocked expression for one of horror at Voldemort's crimes. "Now, it's time for me to close the store. Do you have a place to stay, my boy? If not you can come with me for the night."

Harry forced himself to smile as he looked up at the well intention wizard. "Thank you sir, but I should be getting home now. My uncle must be worried about me. Thank you for letting me stay and read!"

"Anytime, my boy, anytime."

Harry left the shop, making sure that his hat was covering his forehead and refused to take off his sunglasses even in the diminishing sunlight. He kept asking the same questions over and over while he walked aimlessly. He only stopped when he almost tripped on a wide stone slab. Looking up he discovered himself in front of the steps leading to Gringotts Wizarding Bank. A goblin guard was eyeing him distastefully, probably thinking he was just some random street rat with his oversized rags and thin frame. Harry ignored him as he walked into the bank. It was mostly empty except a few witches and wizards trying to get their transactions completed before the bank closed. Harry strolled to a teller (his name plate identifying him as Snatchtooth) who was packing up his things and getting ready to leave.

"Hmph. What do you want brat?" questioned the goblin, sneering at Harry's poor appearance. "We're about to close."

"Sorry to bother you sir, but I'd like to exchange some muggle money for wizarding coins, if you'd be so kind," replied Harry as he withdrew his cash.

The goblin looked taken back by the polite way Harry spoke to it, until he saw the amount of money he took out.

"What's this? Robbed some old fool?"

"Er, no sir," muttered Harry unconvincingly as he fidgeted under the goblins stare.

"Hmph, none of my business anyway. It costs ten percent to change currencies."

Harry frowned, remembering the book had said two percent, but handed over the money anyway. "Do you know a place where I can get a cheap room for the night, sir?"

Snatchtooth sneered as he snatched the cash, counted it expertly, and dished out a few galleon coins to Harry. "Try Knockturn Alley."

"Thank you sir, have a good night," said Harry as he turned to leave. However, something just struck him and he turned back to the goblin staring at him suspiciously.

"What now?" it questioned. The bank was mostly clear now, the last old wizard having just left as most of the tellers closed their desks.

"Um, I was wondering, is there any way I could find out about what happens to the money of those who die?" asked Harry. He recalled the book had said something about the Potter family being one of the higher status families in Magical Britain.

"It's given to their heirs, obviously," drawled the goblin.

"May I inquire about the Potter family's fortune?" asked Harry hesitantly. Snatchtooth suddenly scowled at him as a few goblins around them gasped.

"Come with me brat," said Snatchtooth as he motioned for a guard to grab Harry and began walking towards the back of the bank.

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN<span>**: Thanks for the reviews and feedback! I'm looking for a beta if any one wants to volunteer?

Have a great day!


	3. Learn, and Learn Fast

Chapter 3: Learn, and Learn Fast

The goblins took him towards a set of silver doors, flanked by more goblin guards, above which was engraved:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
><em>Of what awaits the sin of greed<em>  
><em>For those who take, but do not earn,<em>  
><em>Must pay most dearly in their turn.<em>  
><em>So if you seek beneath our floors<em>  
><em>A treasure that was never yours,<em>  
><em>Thief, you have been warned, beware<em>  
><em>Of finding more than treasure there.<em>

Harry gulped back his fear as the guards dragged him through the doors and into the dimly lit hall leading to the countless vaults.

"What do you want? Did I do something wrong?" asked Harry, trying to struggle out of the grasp of his captivators. The goblins held on firmly and ignored him as they hopped into a mine cart behind Snatchtooth while he operated it. The cart plummeted into the dark faster than any roller coaster and Harry might have enjoyed the ride if not for the iron grip of the guards. What felt like an eternity later, the cart landed in front of a small, dark door. The goblins got out of the cart and led Harry through it, opening the door to reveal a dark room with steal chairs and chains. Towards the end of the room there was a large desk with a small lamp on it, the only light in the room that lit up particularly nasty looking goblin with scars covering his face sitting behind it. He looked up and gave a predatory smile.

"What do we 'ave 'ere, lads?"

"A wannabe thief. Thinks he can trick me with his pretty words," grunted Snatchtooth as he led Harry to a chair in front of the desk and seated him in it, the steel chains automatically wrapping around him as the guards walked back to take up vigil in front of the door.

"What? I didn't steal anything!" protested Harry to no avail.

"Thought that warnin' on the doors was just fer show, eh? Thought it didn't apply ta yer 'ighness, eh?" sneered the goblin behind the desk as he got up and made his way around it. "Well ye thought wrong, me lad. Now it's time ta _'pay most dearly,'_ eh? What 'e do Snatchy? Where do I put 'im?"

"I told you not to call me that, you uncultured swine. The boy was after the Potter money. Thought since he could rob some muggle fools, he was good enough to go after Gringotts," replied Snatchtooth.

"What? No! I wasn't after anything! I was just asking!" yelled Harry as he struggled against his chains.

"Hmph. You think you're the first one to try and get at the Potter's vault? We've had dozens of imposters over the year thinking they can impersonate the boy-who-lived while he wasn't showing his face," snarled Snatchtooth.

"No, you got it all wrong! I _am_ Ha-," started Harry before he cut himself off and cursed his foolishness. The _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_ hadn't said anything about the goblins. Were they on Voldemort's side or Dumbledore's? Or neither? If they knew he was Harry Potter would he be killed right then and there in vengeance for their Dark Lord, would he be taken to this Dumbledore fellow or would they not care either way and still carry out their own punishment?

"Yer what?" asked the scarred goblin.

"I'm innocent! I didn't do anything!" cried Harry.

"Ha! That's what they all say. At least before I get started on 'em," grinned the goblin, causing his scars to stretch in a most nauseating way as he drew a small knife. "Now tell us who sent ye, boy? Was it the Notts agin? Or the Yaxelys?"

"I-I don't know them! No one sent me! I was just curious!"

"Oho, lookie 'ere, we got a tough one. Ye want me ta do this the 'ard way then?" asked the scarred goblin in a tone that made it clear he hoped for Harry to say yes. But before Harry could say anything, he heard the door burst open and someone storm inside. He tried to look around, but couldn't do so since he was still chained down to the chair.

"What in the world are you buffoons doing?" questioned the newcomer.

"That's none of your business is it, _Mister_ Zargulg?" sneered Snatchtooth, pronouncing mister with mock respect.

"Well it just so happens that it is. After all, I am the Potters' Account manager. I am to handle any inquires about them, not you or Scarface here. Now put that blade away! What do you think you're doing, scaring the poor child half to death?"

Snatchtooth and Scarface looked highly annoyed, but they obeyed and released the chains on Harry, letting him turn around to see a tall (at least by goblin standards) goblin wearing a tailored suit .

"Thank you. And I'd remind you to not overstep your bounds again, lest I have to inform the Director. Now come, child, let us take our leave from these buffoons," said the goblin. Harry gladly obliged, running out of the room after Zargulg as he entered another cart. Zargulg made the cart take off as soon as Harry stepped inside, going up this time.

"My apologies, Mr.." trailed off Zargulg.

"Um… Noxely, sir," responded Harry. Zargulg raised an eyebrow at that but continued on.

"My deepest apologies, Mr Noxely. I do hope you don't think all goblins are as uncultured as those two. Bogrod told me you were there for money exchange? It will be done free of charge as compensation for their unruly behavior."

"Um, thank you sir."

"Ah! Here we are. This way to my office," said the goblin, stepping out of the cart and opening a bronze door for Harry. Harry stepped inside to see a large desk filled with papers and a few soft cushioned chairs surrounding it.

"Have a seat, Mr. Noxely. May I offer you some biscuits?" he asked, leading the way to his desk and holding out a bowl filled with some.

"Yes please. Thank you sir," replied Harry as he took a seat and grabbed one.

"Help yourself. Now what was it you wished to inquire?"

"Uh, I was just wondering what happened to the Potter money, sir."

"Why it's in this very bank, of course, waiting for its rightful heir. Speaking of which, do you mind holding this?" asked Zargulg, handing Harry a strangely shaped device that looked like a misshapen potato. As Harry grabbed it, he felt a sting in his hand and dropped it back on to the desk.

"Ow!"

Zargulg paid no attention to Harry as he picked up the device and examined it changing color. "Aha! You are of the Potter bloodline! Which can only mean you are Harry Potter? Pleasure to meet your acquaintance!" he yelled as he extended his hand forward.

"Um… ah… likewise?" croaked Harry confused, as he had no choice but to shake the hand.

"How come you haven't been here before? It's customary for children to at least see their inheritance by the age of seven and you're almost eleven, correct?"

"Ah… yes sir. I never knew about the bank beforehand, sir, so I couldn't have come earlier."

"What? Not known about Gringotts!? Have you been living under a rock? What has that old bumbling fool been teaching you? And look at you! Those clothes!" exclaimed Zargulg, wrinkling his nose at Harry's oversized hand-me-downs. His eyes squinted and his voice took on a dangerous tone as he asked "Has Dumbledore been mistreating you?"

"Um.. to be honest sir, today is the first time I ever even heard the name Dumbledore. I have no idea who he is except what I read in a book. Today's the first time I've ever been in Diagon Alley and found out about magic."

"What? You are kidding, right?" asked Zargulg. His mouth opened in shock as Harry shook his head. "But that's utterly preposterous! The blood doesn't lie! You _are _Harry Potter, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"Then how can you not have known about magic all these years?! I know you were hidden away from the public by Dumbledore, but to think you've never seen your own guardian or learned anything from him! How could he have been so gross in his neglect to his duties and responsibilities to his charge?"

"Um, sir, I'm very confused about all this. Dumbledore's my guardian? But I've lived with my aunt and uncle my entire life! They're muggles and called me a freak for doing accidental magic. I only ran away today and stumbled upon the magical world accidentally."

"But… but… that doesn't make any sense! You've _never_ heard of Gringotts before?" asked Zargulg as he opened a file on his desk and quickly dug through its contents.

"No sir."

"But right here, is your own signature!" he proclaimed, drawing forth a paper from the seemingly endless pile in the file. "It was from when you were seven years of age, when Gringotts is obligated to question a sole heir if they wish to oversee the handling of their accounts by their guardians. You signed yes on it!"

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion as he looked at the paper for the first time. "That's not how I sign my name, sir."

"But… this is fraud! That long bearded scoundrel! Who knows how much damage he could have done to _your_ money by now! Come, we must take this to the Director at once!" exclaimed the goblin as he grabbed the file, stood up knocking his chair back and rushed out the door leaving Harry to sprint to catch up with him. Harry ran after him as the surprisingly swift goblin rushed through the halls and turned corners so fast Harry almost lost sight of him a few times. Finally they arrived at a double set of large golden gates, guarded by two halberd wielding goblins on each side.

"Halt! The Director is no longer seeing anyone!" proclaimed one guard stepping forth.

"But I must see him! It is a very urgent matter! I've just stumbled upon the most outrageous of frauds!" yelled Zargulg.

The guards seem to consider for a moment before a voice from inside yelled to "let him in."

The doors opened and Zargulg rushed in followed by Harry who shriveled under the gazes of the stout goblin guards.

"What is it this time Zargulg?" sighed the Director, a wizened old goblin wearing fancy gold and silver robes and sitting behind a gold colored desk on a plush couch. "I thought I told you I'd have your head if you ever called on me after hours again for no reason."

"Yes Director Ragnuk, but it really is important this time! There's been a fraud! I can't believe it myself, but-"

"Enough. Start from the start. And who's the brat?" interrupted the Director.

And so Zargulg introduced Harry to him. The Director sat up straight at hearing that and ordered Zargulg to tell him everything after that. Zargulg started from beginning when Harry had tried to exchange muggle money to wizarding and had been taken 'downstairs' by Snatchtooth. He explained the horrible treatment given by the two goblins at which the Director cursed under his breath. He then went on to explain what Harry had told him about just finding out about everything from the forged signature to Dumbledore's failure at fulfilling his responsibilities as a guardian.

Director Ragnuk sat in silence for a minute as he let everything sink in. The goblins were already treated as lesser beings by the wizards and his workers had just goblin-handled _the _Harry Potter, _the _Boy-Who-Lived, the one wizard that was as idolized as greatly among the wizards as the first Gringott was among the goblins. If word ever got out about the incident, it'd be enough to start a whole new war! The wizards would unite in their love for the boy and their hatred for goblinkind.

There was also the matter with Dumbledore. If he was truly lying to the bank, it would be all the warmongers in his own ranks would need to push for the war they so desperately wanted. They were young goblins who rightly believed themselves wronged by the wizards. Once war started they would stop at nothing less than Dumbledore's own head. And of course, Dumbledore was as wise as he was old. He would not fall so easily to the accusations of goblins. He would've covered his tracks well and the wizards would naturally support him over goblins.

Ragnuk sighed again. He was too old for this. He'd lived through the last war and it hadn't been pretty. The terms that ended it were never in the favor of goblins, but they had accepted at the time in the hopes of a brighter future. To wage war now would undo a century of work. And to think this mighty problem stemmed from a single boy.

As Ragnuk contemplated the situation, Harry finally had a chance to look about properly. He saw that the room was extensively furnished. It was full of paintings of old goblins, decorated with shining armor and wicked weapons. But past all the adornments, as Harry looked around he began to feel the power that was laying there. It was the same way he felt his own magic, or the way he saw past the magic hiding the Leaky Cauldron. However, unlike the haze surrounding the bar or his own magic when he lashed out with it, this was too vast and powerful to be seen. It also felt... different somehow. It was magic, but it was rougher than his own or the kind that hung around Diagon Alley.

"This is a grave matter. Utgaroar, bring Snatchtooth, Scarface and any other goblins associated with the mistreatment of Mr. Potter here immediately," ordered Ragnuk, snapping Harry out of his observations. A goblin stepped forth from around the golden doors, unseen before. It was wearing a black cloak and a mask covering its mouth and nose. It dropped to a knee as it responded with a "yes, my liege," before rushing out the door. "Mr. Potter you have my utmost apologies on your disdainful treatment at the hands of my workers."

"Oh, it's no big deal. They didn't even hurt me, just tied me up. I'm used to worse. My uncle wouldn't even consider that a warm up to his usual stuff," said Harry nonchalantly, as the jaws of both goblins dropped and Zargulg stammered out incoherent sounds.

Ragnuk was not one to be easily at a loss for words. In fact he couldn't remember the last time it happened. But he was at a loss now. The Boy-Who-Lived was being abused? How was that even possible? He shook his head of the thoughts and cleared his throat. There were more pressing matters to be dealt with.

"Be that as it may, we are in your debt. I will personally see to it that you are provided the best service throughout your life here to recompense for those goblin's manners. And rest assured, they and any others who may have offended you will be thoroughly punished."

Harry couldn't believe it! Someone was apologizing to him for mistreating him and promising retribution on those who did it. It would have been an unimaginable thought just yesterday. He grinned as he realized he suddenly had a liking for this Ragnuk fellow.

Ragnuk frowned as he thought Harry's smile meant he was going to take advantage of Ragnuk's words. He cursed himself in offering something so open ended. Just because he was a boy did not stop him from being a wizard. What if he said Ragnuk had offended him? The Director would have no choice but punish himself or risk losing his honor. He couldn't take back the offer, but he could try to redirect the boy.

"I do hope it was only those goblins who offended you, Mr. Potter? If Zargulg has as well, of course he will be removed from the management of your accounts and stripped of rank," proclaimed Ragnuk as Zargulg's jaw dropped and he tried to protest his innocence.

"Oh, no Mr. Zargulg has been very kind and helpful, sir. And please call me Harry."

Again the the Director was at a loss for words. A _wizard_ child referring to a _goblin_ as sir? It was completely unheard of! Wizards were always curt at best. They only tolerated goblins because the goblins held their money. And yet here was this boy, not only turning down an open ended offer to debase as many goblins as he wanted, but he was also being polite and _friendly_ with complete sincerity.

"Ah, yes, well Mr. Pot, er I mean Harry has also been most polite and wonderful," said Zargulg. "Bogrod mentioned he was polite from the minute he entered, even to the likes of Snatchtooth."

"It seems we owe you more than I first suspected, Mr. Potter. For a goblin to mistreat a client such as yourself, is a grave dishonor among our kind," muttered Ragnuk.

"Um, thank you sir. Would it be okay to ask you for a favor then?" asked Harry timidly.

Ragnuk scowled slightly as he nodded his head. Time to see the boy's true colors. Would he want gold? Or perhaps some precious goblin artifact.

"I'd like to know exactly what's going on with Dumbledore. I want to know everything you can tell me about him and his relation to me and my parents. Also please let me know if you know anything about them and about the Potter account. I'm very ignorant on everything in the magical world, it's people and workings."

Ragnuk grinned as he realized he suddenly had a liking for this child. He asked for no monetary reward, but for information. He was smart for a child and knew the true value of things.

"But of course. We would've naturally supplied you with that as you are the heir of the Potter fortune and deeply involved in this mess. Zargulg, do you have the necessary information? If not get it, now."

"Yes sir! I have the Potter accounts here, but I'll go get the information we have on Dumbledore. I suspect I'm authorized to view his accounts and transactions?"

"Yes go and bring them," ordered Ragnuk. Zargulg nodded politely to Harry as he took his leave.

"Thank you sir, I appreciate it," said Harry.

Before Ragnuk could reply, Utgaroar came back with a couple of other guards, escorting Snatchtooth, Scarface and the two guards that had dragged Harry to the lower levels.

"Here they are my liege," said Utgaroar as he pushed them forward. "We caught Snatchtooth on the way to the floo network, about to make a call."

Ragnuk sneered at the goblins before him. "You four have greatly dishonored our nation tonight. To mistreat a customer is already bad enough in our line of business, but to mistreat a wizard like this one is utterly disgraceful. And you, Snatchtooth. Who were you planning on calling?"

Snatchtooth didn't answer other than to curl up his lip in a sneer as he glared at Harry.

"Let me guess. Was it Dumbledore?" continued Ragnuk. The director grinned as Snatchtooth's and Scarface's faces gave him all the answer he needed. "Take these four to where they took our guest here, and find out everything they're hiding."

The guards started dragging them away along with Utgaroar.

"Tch! You'll never get anything from us," growled Scarface before he was silenced by an elbow from Utgaroar.

"You forget Scar, was it not Utga who taught you everything you know about interrogation?" asked Ragnuk, smirking as he flicked his wrist impatiently for them to be taken away.

"I apologize you had to see that Mr. Potter, but rest assured they will be dealt with."

"Thank you sir," replied Harry.

"Why don't you take a seat and tell me how you discovered the magical world while we wait for Zargulg?" suggested Ragnuk.

Harry sat across the desk from him and told him of his story starting from Dudley's birthday. Ragnuk stared with growing admiration as he realized the boy was being cruelly abused and had unlocked his magic through it.

Finally Zargulg returned carrying a large file with him. He opened it up along with the Potters' file and spread various papers across the desk as he began explaining them.

Harry didn't understand most of the technical language, but they dumbed it down for him. Basically, the Potter accounts were one of the banks largest customers, about the fifth richest account in the country, directly behind the Malfoys. Harry's vault had been set up in such a way that he was granted a trust vault until he reached the age of maturity or claimed the Head of House title at which point he would gain access to the main vault. Each year the vault was to be filled with 30,000 galleons_._ Harry could withdraw 1,000 at most within a given amount of time. Anymore and he'd need the permission of his magical guardian. The rest went to his basic necessities, a portion was given to his care takers, medical emergencies that might come up and in the future would pay for his schooling. There was a list of several transactions made every year from his vault as well as the Potters' main vault. From the main account, 5,000 galleons were bequeathed to Dumbledore every year to fulfill his roles as Harry's guardian. 10,000 galleons were taken from Harry's personal vault for his "needs and care", the most that a guardian could withdraw in a given year. The money was transferred to the vault of Elphias Dodge. Harry was told the man was a close friend of Albus Dumbledore and Special Advisor to the Wizengamot (which apparently was the highest court of law of the magical world). When Harry replied that he had never heard of the man, Zargulg looked scandalized. He said the man was listed in the private documents as Harry's caretaker. Further scrutiny of the transaction revealed that 100 galleons were converted to muggle money and transferred to the Drusleys. The rest was used for various purposes, going to a wide number of people and even into Hogwart's scholarship funds.

Harry growled in fury and his magic flared as he realized the Drusleys had been paid to take 'care' of him. They were given money to basically treat him like a slave and beat him whenever they liked. He clenched his fists as he tried to get his simmering magic under control. Someone was going to pay for this.

"This is clearly theft! The man ought to be thrown into Azkaban!" exclaimed Zargulg, flailing his arms about in disgust. Ragnuk, however, was silent as he stroked his chin broodingly over the document.

"And yet he will not," he finally grated out.

"What? Why not? Don't we have all the proof we need here?" asked Harry. Ragnuk stared at him before replying.

"There are things you need to learn, and learn fast if you wish to survive in the Wizarding World, Mr. Potter. Unlike you, wizards are not _polite_ to goblins. They tolerate us only because of this bank," he explained as he waved his hand around the room, his featured growing harder as he continued. "We keep their money safe and grow their fortunes so they allow us this land to reside in. We cannot walk around elsewhere as we please. We are denied wands and labeled as magical creatures on the same level as dragons, grindylows, unicorns, and the like even though we are a sentient and intelligent race. If we go against Dumbledore, we'd have to go in their court of law, through their Department of Magical Creatures. Even with the backing of the "Boy-Who-Lived", goblins simply cannot be allowed to win against a wizard of Dumbledore's standings. Their aristocracy would never allow such a thing to happen as it would make them feel vulnerable. Any documents we produce will be declared frauds, a scheme of the goblins to usurp a powerful and noble wizard while Dumbledore's excuses would be accepted as law. Worst comes to worst, it would be enough to start a war between our races."

"_You _cannot do anything. At least not until you are much older. At that time if you prove to be a powerful wizard as I suspect you will, you can use your power and influence to challenge the thief. If you try anything now as a boy, it will be seen as goblins influencing an innocent boy and using him for their cold blooded schemes. As an adult it will be your word, along with the goblins that you use as _assets_ against the world of Dumbledore. Then you will have a chance."

"B-but what am I supposed to do until then? I have to let this man I've never met be my guardian and steal from me unchallenged? I can't let that happen! I _won't _let that happen!" declared Harry, his magic flaring once again in pure defiance.

Ragnuk chuckled as he sized up Harry. "And what could you do in your current state? I admire your courage, but you've only just discovered your magic or the fact that you've been wronged your whole life. Dumbledore is heralded as the greatest wizard of his time, one who was feared by the Dark Lord. He is also a master of politics, being the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot He is the Headmaster of one of the oldest and acclaimed magical schools, holder of an Order of Merlin, First Class. You, on the other hand, are only the Boy-Who-Lived, the defeater of the Dark Lord. While that may sound like a great title, it is only that. As an eleven year old, you are a tool be used for rallying the light wizards and witches. You are a symbol, an idol, a figurehead. You hold no power, no sway, and most of all, no authority of your own. If you challenge Dumbledore publicly, you will most certainly have supporters in those fanatical enough to think you are _special _since you defeated Voldemort," went on Ragnuk, smirking as Harry bristled more and more with each word. He felt himself beginning to shake with fury at the way the goblin said the word special, something he had always told himself to bear through the taunts of his relatives. "But those supporters will be the poor, uneducated, feeble-minded, and politically weak. Those who have power and wisdom will support Dumbledore because with him they can expect a return on their support. Supporting a boy, popular as he may be, would simply be a waste of time, a…"

"Enough," growled Harry as he barely held his magic back from blasting into the cruelly smirking goblin. "I have been a prisoner, a slave all my life. Today is the first day I felt free. Now you tell me I'm still a prisoner to this _Dumbledore_. I don't care what you say! I _won't_ stay a prisoner any longer! Empty my vaults. If there is no money, he can't take it. I'll take my money and go somewhere else."

"Calm, Mr. Potter," replied Ragnuk, patting the air with his hand while Zargulg watched the two argue quietly, knowing better than to interrupt the Director. "As Zargulg said earlier, you can only withdraw a thousand galleons without Dumbeldore's permission and I suspect he will know if you withdraw less." He held up a hand to stop Harry from protesting and continued on. "I told you there are things you need to learn and learn fast to survive. I was simply informing you of some of those. I will not apologize for the things I said, harsh as they may be, because some things need to be said. I can tell from your brashness and disregard for the consequences you will be a good fit for Gryffindor."

"Well what do you expect?! You're telling me there's nothing I can do and expect me to sit and take it?" growled Harry, believing Gryffindor to be some kind of insult.

Ragnuk chuckled again; completely aware of how close he was bringing himself to being blasted by Harry's pubescent magic. "I never said there's _nothing_ you can do. I only recall asking you what you could do and pointing out something that would be entirely foolhardy. You cannot overthrow Dumbledore yet, if that is what you wish. However, there are some steps you can take to protect and remove yourself from him. We goblins can assist with that. There are ancient rules and laws, ignored or forgotten by wizards, which may apply to here and now…" ended the goblin slyly.

"Tell me!" demanded Harry.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!

_Special thanks to fantasyimagining for betaing this chapter! _

Have a great day!


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